


got nothing to hide

by scandalous



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Anal Fingering, Chronic Pain, Consent, Feelings, First Time, Lube, M/M, Post-Infarction (House M.D.), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: House and Wilson's first time.





	got nothing to hide

**Author's Note:**

> im really excited for this event :'D consent is one of my favorite favorite things about writing anything shippy and ive had this idea stuck in my head for a while
> 
> title from like a virgin by madonna!
> 
> enjoy!!

House's first time with Wilson isn't as taken out of a movie as he'd secretly hoped for.

They both stumble into Wilson's bedroom a few days after his divorce goes through, House fiddling with the waist of Wilson's jeans, kissing him madly. Wilson lets himself be smothered with hungry touch for a few moments, and then he takes a bit of the reign.   


Wilson turns and spins House around, making him have to shift a little. House finds himself wanting to lie down and have Wilson suck him dry, or maybe have Wilson finger him open— he just wants him, all of him, all for himself.   


He's greedy, and Bonnie's finally out of the picture, and now he can be as greedy as he wants.   


Wilson pushes him onto the bed, gently, like he's afraid he'll break him if he doesn't. He keeps kissing him, bodies pressed together, a hand on the crotch of House's pants.   


He slides up his hand, at the zipper. "Can I?" Wilson asks softly.   


"Of course you can," he retorts. "You aren't going to suck me off with my jeans on."   


Wilson chuckles. "I could take the challenge." He pulls down his pants and stops where he knows the scar is, his face twisting in a well-known empathy. A too strong empathy.   


"You care too much," House says.

"Can I pull them farther down?" he asks, ignoring him. "I can make do if you don't want me to, House."   


House draws in a breath and pulls him down, kissing him hungrily before pulling him away. "Do it."   


"No orders here," Wilson tells him, pulling his pants farther down, followed by his boxers. "I have lube in the nightstand. Do you want me to...?"   


House looks at him, and he breaks into this huge, victorious grin, and his heart beats faster. "I knew you were a top."   


Wilson rolls his eyes, gaze still stupidly fond, and he pulls him up for a kiss before lathering his fingers in lube. He warms it up for a few seconds and then prods at House's rim with his index finger.   


"Can I?"   


House wants to say _Stop checking on me with every step_ , but at the same time, he treasures this. How caring Wilson's quiet mumbles are, how his gaze screams a love they both are too afraid to name. It's too soon, too early.   


And he adores how Wilson stops in every step to make sure he's alright, even if he'd be caught dead before admitting so.   


"Yeah," he says after a few seconds.   


"You sure?"   


House smiles a little, as he's sure Wilson isn't looking. "Yeah."   


Wilson pushes a finger onto him and he lets out a shuddered gasp, his head tilting back. He lets Wilson tease his rim, push one finger deep in until he can curl it just right, make him cuss.   


And Wilson stops after a while, teasing him with a second one. "Can I?"   


Too careful, too kind, too sweet. House's heart feels feather-light in his chest.   


"Yeah."   


He pushes a second finger in, and presses a kiss to House's right hip. He shudders and, almost without reason, he has a terrible flare-up. The pain is impossible to ignore, making him squeeze his eyes shut.   


Wilson immediately notices something is wrong— it's like a Spider-sense but with problems— and he stops his ministrations, and House tenses, letting out curses in three different languages.   


Wilson takes that as his cue.   


"Are you okay?" Wilson says, immediately pulling out, his fingers still lubed.   


House looks up at him, his leg hurting like hell. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, laying back on one of the madly expensive pillows Bonnie bought Wilson.   


"House."   


He waves his hand around vaguely, "Leg."   


"I can stop," Wilson says. "Do you want me to stop? Do you want Vicodin?" He's almost frantic, because he's never seen him in pain while he's with his pants down, his shirt rumpled, lips spit-slick from kissing him madly.   


House looks at the ceiling. "Vicodin."   


Wilson fixes his pants and looks through the cabinets before handing him two pills with some water, which he downs thankfully.   


"It's okay for you to ask to stop," Wilson says. "I care about your consent, I don't wanna do anything you don't wanna..." he trails off when he sees House is almost laughing. "What'd I do?"   


"Look at it," he says, pointing at the Vicodin bottle on the nightstand.   


Wilson turns and his jaw drops a little, blush settling on his cheeks. "How— how did I forget to clean my hand?!" he exclaims, incredulous.   


House laughs at him. "That's just how much you care about me."   


Wilson circles the bed and lays down next to him. He leans into House's shoulder and starts tracing circles into his hip. "It sure is."   


House lets himself eat up the silent affection, and the way Wilson doubts before every touch, making sure to have him in on every step.


End file.
